I Have No Clue What I’m Doing.

I don’t mind the idea of never having kids, mostly because of the potential of accidentally screwing up some impressionable youth for life. I mean, I still remember the day my parents slipped up and let me have Cheez-Its for the first time. I still love them TO THIS DAY. That could have been prevented. That said, if the only monkey on my back is an on going addiction to Cheez-Its, I guess I got it pretty good. Not bad for two people who were likely guessing their way through parenting.

Sure, I’m no dad, but I think a fair comparison (at least for the topic of this blog) is getting a promotion at work. At least when I became a manager, for a long time I had no clue what I was doing and just relied on instinct. No one taught me how to coach. No one taught me how to fire someone. No one taught me how to interact with other managers. Not a soul taught me how to deal with being accused of being racist toward Indians. That was an actual thing that happened.

I was taught how to approve time sheets though. Like woah.

I’m bringing it back.

Eventually though, everything clicked and I became director. Then I REALLY had no clue what I was doing. And that mostly holds true to this day.

Of course I’m older and wiser and there are certain things I think I figured out at a decent age. In terms of what makes me tick, I have a great hold of myself. Relationship-wise, I’m golden. I’ve made peace with my eventual death and I live life only to be happy and spread positivity, but by and large, I have no clue what I’m doing. I’m just trying to make it another day, man, learning by whatever means necessary

There’s a lot I’m doing nowadays that feels a lot like being in a new position. Personal projects mean I have no one to fall back on when I’m lazy. Trying to be financially free from a job is… difficult, especially when you jump feet first. But I never got anywhere dwelling on what I don’t know. I’d rather focus on what I can learn and do next.

It’s not so bad though. I’m taking a shot at my dream, so that’s something even if it comes off as totally cliche. At the very least, I figure if a couple people who possibly/probably had no clue what they were doing could somehow leave their kid with a not unappreciated love for all things Cheez-Its, I can eventually find my lane in this new world of mine.

Or fail horribly. If I do, bury me with a box of Cheddar Jack.

Peace out, party people.

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